


Memory, Now

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 15:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4527660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A first kiss, of a kind</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memory, Now

Steve had thought about it, of course. For him, it wasn’t so long since he’d last kissed Bucky; wasn’t so long since he’d felt the scratch of Bucky’s day-old beard and the rough pull of his fingertips against his cheek; wasn’t so long since he’d fisted Bucky’s dark blue jacket in his hands to pull him closer, closer, close. His memories of the war, so vivid in his dreams, were punctuated by remembering those moments. 

But for Bucky it was years – fragmented, twisted years with long months missing, his memories of Steve buried beneath cold and darkness and the mission, always the mission, the imperative to kill running quick and bright through his bones. The pieces of himself he’d clawed back since Hydra fell were mismatched and painful, draining him like blood oozing from a wound, and if he remembered Steve in Technicolor, he never said.

On the days when Steve risked the thought of Bucky’s mouth against his again, his hands, his body, the whisper of his breath, he imagined it would come after battle, the way it so often did in the war. He imagined it would come from the need to seek comfort blindly, to reach out and reassure each other they were whole. Or he imagined it would be purposeful, that they’d talk somehow, that he’d wait Bucky out through long, drawn-out silences, listening to the few words Bucky might offer, and reaching out after asking if he could.

It happened neither way. It happened because the kitchen was small in Steve’s new old apartment; because they hip-checked each other while putting dishes in the sink and Steve saw the shiver that ran down Bucky’s spine; because they looked at one another and recognized each other in a way that Hydra had stolen from them a year ago, seventy more. Steve leaned in and brushed a kiss to Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky let out a short, jerky breath. He pulled at Steve roughly and kissed him back and _god_ , god, Steve lit up like he always had. He remembered this, remembered being small against the bulk of Bucky’s body, remembered tilting his head to reach up, up, chasing kisses across Bucky’s jaw; remembered kissing him, well-matched, new in his body and Bucky safe; remembered lying beside him with Dum-Dum on watch and Bucky whispering, “I love you, pal,” before he smudged a kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth and Steve made it so much more.

It felt right to be crowded against the kitchen counter, to reach up and tangle his fingers in Bucky’s still-long hair, to feel the touch of Bucky’s tongue against his own. For all that the world had been torn down between them and barely rebuilt, Steve knew this, knew this man slowly returning to him, knew what it was to become breathless and aching because of Bucky’s mouth.

And then Bucky pulled away, his hands at Steve’s elbows, and he wouldn’t meet Steve’s gaze. Steve felt the space between them so keenly his heart twisted, but he waited, hoping that whatever thoughts were racing through Bucky’s mind they wouldn’t tug him back from this brink, back to the place where the ink black imprint of Hydra warred with the faithfulness of being young.

Bucky stepped back – one step; two. He glanced at Steve, and then toward the bedroom, looked back and managed a whisper of a smile. He slowly thumbed open the button at the waistband of his jeans and took another step backwards toward the open bedroom door. “Help me?” he said softly, and Steve felt the words in memory, felt them as a slow burn that washed across his body and left him shaking in its wake.

“You got it,” he said, venturing a half-smile of his own, and he reached out toward him, and Bucky grasped his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks for all the conversations at VVC that inspired this, and particular thanks to kassrachel for in-room beta.
> 
> Now on [tumblr](http://sheafrotherdon.tumblr.com/post/126278771308/ficlet-memory-now) for handy reblogging!


End file.
